Nor a fresh flower
From a garden
Yet the vase of the my heart
Like a Japanese
I decorate
With the gift you gave
In the form of hurt
I let it
Bloom from bud into a flower
And very carefully
All the time I look after
I protect it
From the scorching sun
Daily in the morning I give water
In every moment
I smell its intoxicating fragrance
The moon vie
With the Excellencies which lie
In its tiny colourful petals
And held the glory of the height
In green of a hill
I feel inspired in blue
And white tells me to be courageous
Like a gust of wind
Black gives me safety
From the envy eyes
Red is my strength
I show and brag
Against the starry sky
The Memories crowed in
When I see pink
In yellow it reminds me the pain
Wounds become fresh
When I see violets
Yet I hold the stalk tight
Against the morning sun
With a farm belief that
It would end well.